


It was the hair

by Narcissa_Mottershead



Series: The Golden Blaze [1]
Category: Upstairs Downstairs (2011)
Genre: Cute, F/F, Fem, Femslash, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Slash, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa_Mottershead/pseuds/Narcissa_Mottershead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was the hair that Rosalind saw first, coiled like wire beneath it's heavy metal pins." </p><p>The first in a series of prompts taken from the wording of "The Golden Blaze" that we hear Blanche reading. <br/>Meet-Cute. <br/>It can be read as part of the series or as a stand alone story</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was the hair

It was the hair that Portia saw first, coiled like wire beneath its heavy metal pins. As she turned, it caught the light, the multitude of different shades of gold and caramel that laced around each other shining in an almost religious fashion about her head. She was talking animatedly to a small Arab man, her white shirtsleeves rolled neatly up above elbows, a pare of little round glasses hanging off the end of a string of glass beads around her neck swinging this way and that as she pulled her hands out of the pockets of her trousers and started gesturing forcefully at different point of the site in front of them.

           

Portia watched, somewhat amused, as the little man scuttled off and Dr Blanche Mottershead heaved a great sigh, pushing a few escaped curls back from her face. She certainly seemed to live up to her reputation; extremely intelligent, witty, and most importantly in this case, in possession of an often unpredictable and fiery temper. But she seemed to hold a certain beauty that Portia’s informers had failed to tell her about. Though she was perhaps not classically beautiful, she was, in her own way, really rather striking. The full curves of her hourglass figure, and the wild curls that seemed to be so desperately trying to escape her neat pins, all seemed to be strangely wonderful to Portia.

 

She stopped, becoming very still, and looked up straight into Portia’s eyes, returning her gaze steadily, seemingly drinking in every detail of her as Portia herself had been doing not moments before. A little smile seemed to twitch at the corners of her full mouth, and without warning the older woman was strolling over to her. All of a sudden they seemed to be standing not a foot apart. She stuck out her hand and said,

            “You must be Portia Sinclair. I’m Dr Blanche Mottershead.” Portia took her hand and shook it.

            “I know. I’ve heard a great deal about you,” she said. Then she smiled, and looked into the woman’s bright green eyes, and added, “And please, call me Portia. I have a feeling that we are going to become very close to one another.”  

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first instillment of my little series! These can all be read as either stand alone stories (or just little fluflets :3) or part of the longer series.


End file.
